


Storm

by usabuns



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: 7 Years Post Cell Gap, Comfort/Angst, Deeper Meanings, F/M, Really Contemplative Stuff, Submerged Metaphors, Vegebul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 22:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5761678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usabuns/pseuds/usabuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt "Vegebul - Storm."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt I received on Tumblr! This one is more meaning heavy, rather than mostly dialogue like the Hanvi one. 
> 
> Original post: http://tracksuitgohan.tumblr.com/post/137604843309/vegebul-18

She gripped to his arm tighter, closing her eyes and giving a little yelp at every flash of lightning and boom of thunder. While he had been annoyed at her sudden clingy behavior years ago, he had to admit that being so close to her for such a long period of time was quite fun. _Especially_ when she got frightened and clung to him more. 

Was there anything that scared Bulma more than storms? Than the blinding lights, the blaring sounds, the darkness that hung in the air? The vague resemblances to the beasts and monsters that hunted her throughout her life? 

The simple answer was no. Nothing could ever strike fear into the heart of the bravest Earthling he knew more than a _thunderstorm_ of all things. It baffled him, how irrational humans were. 

Outside, Vegeta could hear the rain pounding and pelting against the roof and concrete; she shivered and squeezed his bicep tighter, her legs curling around his muscled ones. Normally, he would push her away and scowl and yell obscenities (while blushing); detesting physical contact and affection, this was a break of the norm for him, an exception to the routine. He had gotten used to it. 

But he also _enjoyed_ it. He enjoyed feeling her fingernails leaving indents in his flesh, he enjoyed the way her skin writhed with moistness and sweat as she pressed her body against him. Enjoyed her moans and groans, enjoyed the feeling of purpose she gave him, the sensation of usefulness. And he enjoyed (by far, the most) the sharp inhales of breath she took whenever a particularly restless part of the storm passed by. 

It was _riveting._ The sense of pride her felt whenever this rare event occured, the protective nature he took on when he knew that this was the _one_ time he could comfort and console her because she was _afraid._

But there was always that nagging feeling of pity that always formed in his stomach. The anger that came with it. The want and need to fix all of her problems... 

"V-Vegeta..." She squirmed around, as if trying to get out of his arms, which are securely wrapped around her. He sighs, deeply, as another round of thunder booms endlessly; as lightning strikes illuminate the dark sitting room. 

"I know, Bulma..." It was only a murmur, only a coo. He rubbed one calloused palm over her delicate arm, seemingly calming her. Her eyes, damp with water, cringed and faded with every noise and lighting shift. "It'll be over soon." 

She was whimpering, sobbing into his chest and cuddling to his form with more strength and gusto than he thought possible. He brought a hand up to her blue locks, twirling and caressing them in failed attempts to soothe her. She jumped at another flash of lightning; her crying became choked as her heart beat faster and faster against his chest-plate. 

The storm got quieter, drowned out in the distance, but still utterly present. In sporadic myraids, the sights and sounds and feelings of rain and clouds come back to them, to her; they are reminders of how powerful nature is, of the threat that loomed in the sky. 

Storms, just just like evil, lurked dangerously wherever you went. Always.


End file.
